


butterflies.

by dylaesthetics



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Arguing, Blood and Gore, Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Mad Scientists, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Minor Erica Reyes/Stiles Stilinski, Minor Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Stydia, Unrequited, the 100 crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylaesthetics/pseuds/dylaesthetics
Summary: As the last chords of the song were playing and Stiles spinned her a final time, Lydia thought this was it. This was the moment she'd been waiting on, just them, laughing heartily at one another under the starry sky.So when Stiles looked away into the direction of the city, Lydia grabbed the collar of his shirt and pushed him down, an inch away from his lips. She waited for permission, eyes glistening  in anticipation. Stiles bored into Lydia’s greens, his expression unreadable, but when she felt his breath fall heavy on her neck, Lydia broke the distance between their lips.She was kissing him. She was kissing Stiles. Exhilaration travelled through her body at the touch of his lips on hers. Her brain, already buzzed, reached a new level of high. And for the longest moment, she didn't realise he wasn't kissing her back._After an awful fallout, Lydia attempts to bring Stiles back into her life, while simultaeneously trying to find herself. With a new threat in sight, perhaps Stiles has no choice.
Relationships: Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	1. birthday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their friendship’s breaking point had been so upsetting, Lydia could not leave her room for anything other than school for weeks. Once inseparable, from primary school through sophomore year, they were now shadows in each other’s lives. Glances ignored in the hallways, seats changed in class, their once written down names around their favourite places in the town now crossed out in different ink.

Lydia, even though a social butterfly at school, simply preferred to spend a Friday night reading a heart-wrenching book and that was okay.

Except, on this particular April evening, with _P.S. I love you_ between her thighs as she lied in her bed, illuminated by fairy lights still up from the holidays, she could not hear herself think. The terrible music blasting from her next-door neighbour’s house could not get any louder and her walls shook from the bass.

Lydia, particularly irritated because said neighbour hadn’t sent her an invite, arose from her bed, leaving the book behind. Determinately, she slipped into her flip flops, tied the belt of her dressing gown around her waist tightly and sneaked out of her room. On her way downstairs, Lydia passed her mom’s bedroom that smelt an awful lot like incense and she glanced over at her mom, who had the cooking channel and a face mask on. Ensured she wouldn’t notice her disappearance, Lydia stealthily walked out of her house.

The crisp air felt chilly on her bare ankles as she tiptoed towards the Stilinski home. As the music drew nearer, Lydia noticed more than one neighbour out on the streets, eyeing the house with a phone in their hands, prepared to ring the police.

“Who even is he?”

Lydia turned around, spotting a couple of guys moping not too far behind her. A clinking sound was coming from their backpacks, certifying the girl that they were heading for the party. Before they could notice her, Lydia dashed in the direction of a particularly high rose bush, squatting down in the shadow behind it. A thorn pierced her skin as she tugged at the flowers by accident, but Lydia didn’t mind it too much as she wasn’t too keen on socialising at the very moment.

“He’s on the team. Always benched though.” another voice Lydia recognised said. Must be a friend of Jackson’s.

“Why are we going to this loser’s party, then?” they were getting closer, so close she could see their jeans through the bushes. 

“Because of the _girls_.”

“You mean-”

The strawberry blonde girl realised a tad too late that the path to Stiles’ house led past her hiding spot. Isaac, indeed a friend of her boyfriend’s, noticed her immediately. “Oh, hi, Lydia. Going to the..? Uh... Never mind.” he stared down at her outfit.

Lydia had quite forgotten that she’ll be _seen_ in her nightgown by half of the Beacon Hills high school. She squinted her eyes in embarrassment but quickly enough straightened up, facing the pair. She trusted her jaw forward, trying to look as in element as at school.

“I _am_ going to the party. Weren’t you guys _told_ to bring pyjamas?” she panicked, blurting out the first excuse she could think of.

Isaac’s friend pinched his mouth. “ _Pyjamas?_ Come on, let’s go to Aaron’s instead.” he grabbed Isaac’s, who gaped at Lydia questioningly, shoulder and forced him back down the path to the pavement.

The second Isaac and his friend had disappeared into the lamp-lit street, Lydia pushed herself down on the dewy grass, hugging her knees to her chest.

All she’d wanted was to complain to Stiles about the music, not embarrass herself in front of her schoolmates once again. Even during this brief moment, she wished to be the real her, not the made-up gossiping popular girl with the popular boyfriend, Lydia was forced into the latter. And frankly, she was getting wearier by the second.

“Lydia?” a worried voice called for her from behind. “What are you doing down there?”

Quickly, she blinked away the salty liquid that had been tugging at her eyelashes for several moments and swung around to face no one other than the party host.

Stiles stood still on his porch, gripping a bottle of beer in one hand and scratching the back of his head with the other. He looked messed up. Even several feet away, Lydia spotted stains on his white dress shirt and red marks scattered across his neck. She choked down the bitterness building up in her brain.

“I’m... I- My mom, she, uh, complained about the noise.” Lydia found herself lying for the second time that night. “So could you... Turn it down?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, taking in the scene of Lydia lying down on the grass in Stiles’ front yard and staining her pyjamas. She avoided his gaze, chewing on her lips.

“Your mom didn’t send you, did she?” he squinted his eyes.

Lydia let her arms fall down her sides despairingly. “Does it matter?”

Stiles murmured something that sounded a lot like ‘unbelievable’. “Are you just pissed off because you weren’t invited?” he asked fearfully, yet seemed impressed to have even confronted Lydia. The unattainable Lydia, the owner of the emerald green eyes, which now bored into Stiles’, she who was no longer his best friend. Not for months.

Their friendship’s breaking point had been so upsetting, Lydia could not leave her room for anything other than school for weeks. Once inseparable, from primary school through sophomore year, they were now shadows in each other’s lives. Glances ignored in the hallways, seats changed in class, their once written down names around their favourite places in the town now crossed out in different ink.

“No.” she lied again, disliking her new habit. “I have better things to do on a Friday night than attend a stupid birthday party.” She didn’t.

“What? Like lying down in my front yard?”

He’d made a good point. “Whatever.” Lydia stood up, pretending to carelessly brush the dirt away from her gown. “Just turn the music down, please.”

Stiles scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry.” he hadn’t lost his sense of sarcasm since the previous time they’d spoken to each other. “Am I bothering you?”

“Stop it!” Lydia squeaked out, putting her hand in the air in anger. “I don’t know what.. _happened_ for you to have become such an asshole, but it’s really _annoying_.”

Stiles laughed heartily. “That the best you could come up with?”

Lydia pinched her lips, in hopes of avoiding another outburst. She watched Stiles’ grin transform into a frown she recognised from her memories. He'd only looked at her like this when he was genuinely hurt.

“Come on, Lydia, this isn’t your scene, anyway. I heard there’s a party at Aaron’s. He’s a friend of Jackson’s, right? You should hang out with _your_ lot.” he swung around unexpectedly, turning his doorknob. 

“I don’t have any-” Lydia protested but Stiles had already slammed the door behind him.

“Great,” Lydia muttered under her nose, wandering down the pavement into the direction of her house. She glanced at her mom’s room window, which was dark enough to reflect the moon. Her mom had gone to sleep. “Perfect. Just what I needed.” 

All because of one stupid little drunken kiss. All because Lydia could not pretend for another night. Pretend to not have fallen in love with Stiles, her _friend_ Stiles, who did not see her the same way.

Over and again, she would mentally beat herself up, regretting having ever proposed the idea of a night out at the cliff, just the two of them and a ten-pack of beers. Regretting having put on the playlist of their favourite songs which made her escape her fears for the night and lose herself in the moment. Regretting having asked for a dance and hearing chuckles come out of both their mouths as Stiles spun Lydia around. Regretting having imagined that perhaps he felt the same way. He did not.

> _As the last chords of the song were playing and Stiles spun her a final time, Lydia thought this was it. This was the moment she'd been waiting on, just them, laughing heartily at one another under the starry sky._
> 
> _So when Stiles looked away into the direction of the city, Lydia grabbed the collar of his shirt and pushed him down, an inch away from his lips. She waited for permission, eyes glistening in anticipation. Stiles bored into Lydia’s greens, his expression unreadable, but when she felt his breath fall heavy on her neck, Lydia broke the distance between their lips._
> 
> _She was_ kissing _him. She was kissing_ Stiles. _Exhilaration travelled through her body at the touch of his lips on hers._ _Her brain, already buzzed, reached a new level of high. And for the longest moment, she didn't realise he wasn't kissing her back._
> 
> _Immediately, she pulled away with eyes now full of fright. Stiles kept his pair shut, appearing quite distraught with fluttering eyelids and pursed lips._
> 
> _Lydia had misread the situation. Silly, silly girl. Even though it tore her insides apart, she had to understand reality. She'd been wrong to hope that Stiles loved her, too._
> 
> _“Why'd you do that?” Stiles breathed out roughly, watching Lydia through half-open eyes._
> 
> _Lydia gulped, panic ripping her brain apart. “I... No reason.”_
> 
> _“No reason,” he repeated nonchalantly, yet frowned visibly in the moonlit field._
> 
> _Lydia felt absolutely stupid. With lips still pouted and eyes frozen open, she was hesitant to move a muscle._
> 
> _“I was just in the moment. You know. Buzzed. Dancing.” she rambled, certain she failed to sound convincing. Stiles could see right through her like she was a ghost. By now, he must’ve had figured out her stupid,_ un _requited feelings._
> 
> _“Right.” the syllable cut like a blade, slashed deep in her skin. Stiles looked at her, disappointment obvious in his browns, in a way he never had before._
> 
> _“I'm sorry, it didn't mean anything.” Lydia squeaked out, picking at her fingernails._
> 
> _“Yeah, we've settled that.”_
> 
> _He swung around, knocking over a can of beer on his way to the car he’d parked near the forest. Lydia rushed after him, trying to not trip over the stones._
> 
> _“Stiles, I'm sorry.”_
> 
> _“Which part?” by the time Lydia had caught up with him, he’d stopped suddenly, turning around to face her. They were so close. Having noticed that, too, Stiles stepped a few feet back. Lydia’s stomach squirmed._
> 
> _She pursed her lips. “I don't- What do you mean?”_
> 
> _“Nothing,” he said coolly. “I'll ask Scott to take us home.” he continued darting towards his jeep, leaving Lydia behind utterly baffled._
> 
> _“Stiles,” she called after him as he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, before following him._
> 
> _“It's nothing. Don't worry.”_
> 
> _“It_ is _something.”_
> 
> _Stiles had reached the driver’s door. He cracked it open, took out his phone and smashed the door close angrily. He rang Scott, murmured something about werewolf speed into the speaker and put the phone away quickly._
> 
> _“You just..” he struggled to find words, letting his arms fall down to his sides. He looked her dead in the eye, opened his mouth but hesitated to speak. Stiles was visibly having an inner struggle._
> 
> _“You just ruined it.” his voice broke down in the middle of the sentence. “You ruined everything,” he added disappointingly._
> 
> _Lydia would’ve preferred if he’d shouted. Her eyebrows curved, and, with her gaze focused on the silhouette she could no longer recognise in front of her, she felt her mascara running down her cheeks._
> 
> _“Can we just forget it? Please?” she cried, her chin trembling. Stiles stepped forward, out of the shadows, illuminated by the reflection of the moon. He appeared worried now, eyes glistening. “I was being stupid. I don't want to ruin our-”_
> 
> _His face dropped and eyes darkened. “Lydia, stop talking,” he said through clenched teeth._
> 
> _Right then, while Lydia stood with a downturned head and sobbed, something rustled in the bushes nearby. Quickly enough, a dark four-legged figure escaped, dashing towards the pair. If this wasn’t a normal Scott entrance, they would’ve worried._
> 
> _“What’s happening here?” Scott asked, once turned back to human. His gaze shifted between Lydia to Stiles curiously._
> 
> _“Nothing.” Lydia and Stiles lied simultaneously. Or perhaps they didn’t. Like Stiles had said before, it meant nothing. He felt nothing._

As Lydia entered her room after having sneaked past her sleeping mom, tears were falling from her eyelashes rapidly. She rushed to her bed, tossed the book away and fell flat on her face on the pillow.

If only. If only the next day she hadn’t come up to his locker after their first class and had the door slammed in her face before Stiles disappeared into the hallway. If only she’d given him time and left him alone. If only she hadn’t sat beside Jackson in English when Stiles had stormed away from his usual seat beside her. If only she hadn’t changed herself to the point where she could not recognise herself in a mirror. If only she hadn’t started dating Jackson out of pure loneliness and heartbreak and found herself stuck in a scene she’d despised before. _Maybe,_ maybe she’d still have him in her life.

Lydia sat up and dried her tears with a corner of her blanket. She hated herself for becoming someone she never wanted to be, pretending to be _normal_ while having the knowledge of the unimaginable. Hated to have ruined everything. And most of all, she hated herself about _still_ being in love with Stiles.

Feeling a breeze from her window, she walked towards it. Her face froze in the places the tears had travelled, and she shut her eyes momentarily before pulling the window shut, too.

Her gaze shifted to the view outside; the window of Stiles’ bedroom they’d used to talk through when both were too lazy to come over. Nowadays, his blinds typically stayed shut and Lydia couldn’t peek through.

On this particular night, however, Lydia had a clear view of Stiles’ room, his blue bedsheets she’d used to lie on with feet in the air while Stiles was studying, some of the posters of bands they shared a love for and his photo wall. To her surprise, she spotted pictures of _them_ still stuck to the wallpaper. Lydia smiled. Was there still any hope left or had Stiles been too idle to rearrange them?

With chin resting on her palms as she stared at the room from the window sill, losing herself in memories of happier times, Lydia failed to notice a figure walk into the room and turn on the lights. Only when Stiles approached his window, appearing messier than before, and began unbuttoning his stained shirt, their gazes met. Stiles stopped at once, frozen at the fourth button.

Lydia’s jaw dropped. He was looking _back_ at her, his chest exposed. He chewed on his bottom lip, blinking slowly like he could not believe his eyes. Then he looked away.

She couldn’t hear him but _knew_ he’d cleared his throat before disappearing from the view. Lydia kept watching and hoping he’d return. She waited and waited.

Until the door of his room opened again and a girl, whose blonde curls fell on her shoulders messily, entered, wearing a dark dress with a low neckline and a leather jacket on top. She glanced to where Lydia figured Stiles was hiding, furrowed her eyebrows and looked over to the window.

Immediately, Lydia hurried away from the window sill, but she was too late. The strange girl laughed vigorously, throwing her head back before slipping her jacket off and, eventually, shutting the blinds.

With an idea of where the girl’s and Stiles’ next interaction was going to lead, Lydia returned to her bed to continue reading her book. She rushed through page after page, trying her best to avoid thinking about whatever was currently happening in the neighbouring house.

And soon enough, she realised she could no longer hear the music and drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! i am actually in the midst of writing a chaptered slow burn! this means that sadly i'll be postponing any one shots until further notice but i am incredibly excited to be posting my first stydia series!
> 
> i will attempt to post a new chapter weekly, but don't count on it as i've just started uni and my new life's pretty busy.
> 
> hope you enjoyed the introdoction! don't let it fool you, however, because there's many gorey and exciting twists and turns planned coming as soon as chapter two! thanks for reading and i'd really appreciate feedback as it motivates me to keep writing :')
> 
> \- dylan @piinofs on twitter


	2. buzz.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s so obvious, though, isn’t it? Unrequited feelings are a pain in the ass.”
> 
> “I don’t like him.” Lydia affirmed through gritted teeth. She disliked the owner of the chocolate brown eyes, which looked painfully similar to Stiles’, more by the second. 
> 
> “That’s what I said.”

“Patient #0017.” a voice from the intercom echoed across the room.

With a scan of a keycard and a buzz, the door to the white-painted laboratory opened. Two guards in matching robes carried in a man in his thirties with a bandaged mouth, roaring in agony as he fought for his escape.

“What do we have here, then?”

A boy no older than 18 with pulled-back dark hair, thick eyebrows and an untypically mature grimace for someone his age asked unemotionally. Through clear glasses, his gaze glued to a paper file folder he held in his hands. It contained a list of names. Next to him was a white chair with restraints for extremities and a circled headset with pikes, whose razor-sharp tips flashed blue. 

“Another wendigo.” one of the guards spoke in disgust. “This one ate his cellmate this morning.”

“Wendigos... Mental creatures.” the younger boy uttered under his nose. “Ask the warden to isolate them.”

“But-”

The boy put up his hand and the guards immediately shut their mouths. “You don't mind cleaning up the blood?” he smirked.

The guard darted his glance to nowhere in particular, avoiding the boy. “I mind the safety of our soldiers, Theo.”

“It’s _sir_ to you.” Theo arched one eyebrow. “Bring it in.” he nodded his head at the wendigo.

Theo bored his eyes into the paper in front of him as the two guards brought the struggling creature to the chair and restrained his wrists. Even when the wendigo bit through his mouth bandage and exposed his five sets of teeth to the guards, Theo remained unbothered. It wasn’t until they’d locked the chain around the wendigo’s ankles that he actually looked up.

He tilted his head in the direction of the exit and the guards nodded, leaving Theo alone with the supernatural creature.

“Shall we begin?” Theo asked rhetorically, moving not a single muscle in fear at the sight of crimson red liquid dripping from the wendigo’s crooked teeth. The man struggled in his seat, leaning forward and trying to rip his restraints with his teeth. Theo looked up at the surveillance camera in the corner above the door and turned his back from it. He then gripped the wendigo’s shoulder tightly and Theo’s eyes started glowing, the same shade of blue as the lasers. He exposed his own set of fangs. Immediately, the wendigo stopped protesting, leaning back in his seat in fright and shutting his mouth.

“That’s better,” he muttered under his nose, turning back to human as if nothing had happened. He moved to pull the lever of a machine beside the chair and with a beep, the system turned on, flashing green. The wendigo, who Theo had purposely forced to put his head inside the headset, squealed in agony.

Immediately, images began to pile up in a hologram above the system board. Images from the perspective of the man’s; his memories. Theo quickly scrolled through to the last memory. Before erasing it, he glanced at the wendigo, whose eyeballs were showing as he foamed at the mouth, and formed a _sorry_ with his lips.

“I’m going to be asking you questions and you’ll have to listen to me. Not a single thought of yours can slip past me now. You will have to be honest.” Theo pushed buttons on the board, creating an empty sequence up on the screen. He glanced at the wendigo, who was spitting the foam out of his mouth, trying to show his teeth again.

“The more you struggle, the worse this will turn out for you.” Theo turned up the intensity of the headset and the man screeched. “Cooperate or die.”

But the wendigo didn’t listen. As he continued to struggle, Theo watched the images flashing in his brain. In them, he was tearing Theo’s insides apart, chewing on his organs and sucking his blood out. Disgusted, Theo looked away from the hologram and turned around, ambling towards the exit door, not bothering to turn the machine off.

As he scanned his keycard and the metal door opened, he gave the dying wendigo a final glance and then disappeared into the hallway. In moments, the man let out his final breath.

* * *

“Lydia, you seriously need to see someone about this.”

On Monday morning, three days after Stiles’ party, Lydia, Kira, Allison and Malia sat in a circle under a tree in the high school’s backyard. While Kira plucked awfully sweet-smelling yellow flowers and Allison feverishly texted someone, Lydia had told the group about a buzzing and beeping she’d been hearing since she’d woken up. Except, Malia seemed to be the only one listening to her.

Lydia rolled her eyes at her, speaking in clear sarcasm. “Who? A therapist at the local supernatural clinic? Come on, Malia.”

“There’s always a place for you at Eichen’s,” Kira suggested jokingly, wrapping a blade of grass around the flowers.

“Haha, not funny.” Lydia sputtered through clenched teeth.

Allison finally looked up from the screen of her phone, holding it with both her hands. “Just tell Scott.”

Even though Kira, Malia and Allison were still on speaking terms with Lydia when she wasn’t surrounded by Jackson’s clique, they hadn’t forgiven her for breaking the pack and that seemed fair.

“I can’t,” Lydia stressed. “He’ll have to tell the pack and that means telling Stiles and-”

“Perhaps you should just finally stop bickering with him and you wouldn’t have this struggle.” Allison reminded her matter-of-factly.

Lydia pursed her lips together in annoyance, watching Kira and Malia nod along at Allison’s words. At this point, Kira had finished making the flower crown and placed it on top of Malia’s head. The werecoyote’s cheeks reddened as she smiled at her girlfriend, and leaned down to peck her cheek, at which Kira appeared just as flustered.

Lydia turned back to Allison. “Hey, it’s him who’s pissed at me! I’ve tried apolo-” 

“Well, you haven’t tried hard enough.” Allison interrupted her, putting the phone down in the grass now. “Just tell Scott. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lydia sighed. “At this point, literally _anything_.”

Allison nodded, glancing at the two girls on her right. Malia had now rested her head in Kira’s lap as she looked up at the sky through the branches of the tree, the blues without a cloud in sight. 

“If you don’t tell Scott, I will.”

Having said that, Allison returned to tapping on the keyboard of her phone. Lydia, however, lied back on the ground, grass peeking through between the locks of her long hair.

The buzzing got louder in her head as she stared at the light blue painted sky. The shade seemed familiar to one she’d seen in a nightmare the night before but she couldn’t quite place it.

When the bell rang distantly, notifying the period’s end, Lydia sat back up. As the rest of the girls picked up their backpacks and headed back inside the school, Lydia stayed on the ground. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the chat with Scott. Her last message to him had been sent over half a year ago, only a week after Stiles had stopped talking to her.

> **from: lydia [11:31am]**
> 
> _supernatural emergency, meet me at lunch. p.s. don’t bring stiles._

When the message was delivered, Lydia quickly packed her belongings and ran after Kira, Malia and Allison into the school. As she stepped over the threshold of the entrance door, she bumped into someone hard, knocking their books out of their hands.

Lydia apologised, not looking up at the person and squatted, picking up book after book, until spotting a colourful cover of a comic, which was part of the _Star Wars_ franchise. One that unmistakably belonged to Stiles, one she’d seen it in his bookshelf.

“Stiles?” she asked before looking up and immediately regretted it.

Looking down at her was the blonde girl she’d seen in Stiles’ room the other night, wearing the same leather jacket and an excessive amount of dark make-up, and biting on an apple. “Nope. Erica here.” she introduced herself, pulling her arm out. Somehow, Lydia understood it was no kind gesture of helping her up; she’d wanted her books back. Lydia handed them over, pushing herself up from the ground.

“Aren’t you that Lydia girl?” Erica squinted her eyes at her, blocking the entrance door. “Stiles told me about you.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows, genuinely interested. “What’d he say?” 

Erica stayed quiet for a moment, letting a boy push through the unlikely pair to get inside. “He pretty much hates you, you know. Said you messed things up badly.” Erica snorted, twirling a curl of her hair and watching Lydia’s face drop. “It’s so obvious, though, isn’t it? Unrequited feelings are a pain in the ass _._ ”

“I _don’t_ like him,” Lydia affirmed through gritted teeth. She disliked the owner of the chocolate brown eyes, which looked painfully similar to Stiles’, more by the second. 

“That’s what I said.”

Erica threw the apple core in the direction of the tree the four girls had just sat beside and swung around, leaving Lydia behind confused and brokenhearted.

Stiles _hated_ her? She was aware that he didn’t like her so much anymore, but was it really _hate_? Lydia hadn’t a clue whether she could trust Erica but her words added to the burden in her brain, sounding together with the buzzing and beeping now.

Her pocket vibrated, and she pulled the phone out, sighing at the content of Scott’s text.

> **from: scott [11:38am]**
> 
> _see you then. p.s. stiles is a package deal._

“Wonderful,” she muttered to herself. She then glanced over at the tree, recalling the spring of the sophomore year, when the entire pack would bring their lunch boxes and sit in a circle. With Stiles by her side and surrounded by her other friends, she’d felt like the happiest person in the world. That was, of course, no longer the reality.

* * *

Lydia entered the cafeteria, which buzzed with laughter and complaints about the food. She preferred the noise, however, as it drowned out the repetitive sounds in her mind and because she could speak to Scott without worrying of being eavesdropped on. As she settled down at one of the empty tables, Lydia studied the room nervously. She spotted Jackson’s clique at the farther corner, and Isaac eyeing her suspiciously. When she shifted her gaze from Isaac, she noticed Scott marching between the tables in her direction. To Lydia’s regret, butterflies squirmed in her stomach at the sight of Stiles staggering behind him, raving about something that probably had to do with Lydia.

As they neared her, Lydia could tell some words apart. “..could you do this to me? Scott, I’ve told you a million times, she’s a-”

“Hi.” Lydia interrupted him as the pair reached the table, stopping at once.

Scott settled for the chair beside Lydia, leaving the other one opposite of her empty. Lydia wondered if he’d done it purposely when Stiles scoffed and pushed the chair to the side with a creaking noise.

“What’s this about, then?” he avoided her glance, staring at Scott angrily instead. “I promised to meet Erica.”

Lydia choked down her bitterness, trying to focus on anything but what she’d seen from her bedroom’s window a few nights ago, even if it meant the eery sounds.

“I’ve been hearing noises in my head. Like a, like a..” Lydia pondered, placing her hand on the table and picking at her fingernails anxiously. “Like a keycard getting scanned or a door buzzed open. And it _won’t_ stop.”

Scott and Stiles observed her, almost sympathetically. Lydia, on the other hand, detected a shift in Stiles’ eyes. He watched her like he had when they were okay, a hint of worry glistening in them as he parted his lips.

“Sounds like nothing.” to Lydia’s disappointment, his eyes darkened again, as he pushed himself up from the chair. “I’m leaving.”

“Stiles, _stay_ ,” Scott growled at him, standing up abruptly and grabbing his shoulder to hold him down. They stared at each other for a moment until Stiles finally gave in.

“What do you think it means?” Scott queried quietly. “Is someone dying?”

“Usually, the noises are constant, overlapping. But this one’s... It’s like they’re buzzing someone in one by one, with intervals.” Lydia concentrated on the sounds. “It’s kind of like a hospital.”

“A hospital where people are dying?” Stiles jutted his jaw. “Sounds like Eichen’s to me. They have keycard scanners at every door.”

Lydia mentally punched herself. It was so _obvious_. But even though she hadn’t really contributed to the idea, Lydia felt exhilarated to have witnessed Stiles’ cleverness after all this time. 

“We have to break in.” Scott scolded determinately, receiving a death glare from both Lydia and Stiles.

“Oh, you are _not_ going in there again.” Lydia protested. “Don’t you remember the last time, when the mountain ash trapped you and Kira in? You almost _died_.”

“That’s why I think it should be you two.” Scott pointed at Lydia, then Stiles.

After a minute of utter silence and frowns thrown at one another, Stiles leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Nope. Not happening.” 

“Stiles, it’s been _months._ Just get over it already.”

“I’ve got over _everything_.”

“ _Clearly_ , you have an issue with Lydia,” Scott argued, putting his hand on the table next to Lydia’s. “So solve it.”

“Stiles.” Lydia addressed him for what had been the first time since last year, his name falling from her lips easier than she’d imagined it would. “We _need_ to figure this out. What if... What if someone dies because we don’t go?”

Another momentary silence fell upon them. Stiles, struggling with an inner fight, kept his gaze on Lydia’s hands, like studying their every wrinkle and line. Finally, his eyes shifted to her face. “What’s the plan, then?”

Lydia’s heart performed a somersault. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she tried to convince herself that Stiles had _actually_ just agreed on working out the mystery with her. 

“I’ve, uh, got nothing so far. We did _just_ think of it, you know.” she didn’t let emotion creep into her voice.

“Fine. I’ll come over after school and we can work it out.”

Stiles got up, his eyes darting towards something behind Lydia, whose eyes froze open. She then followed his gaze, finding Erica in the crowd of schoolmates, who were now leaving their tables to go to their next class. Stiles left without saying goodbye and Lydia watched him approach her, pulling her into a brief kiss. Lydia’s insides boiled up.

“Took you guys long enough,” Scott uttered when Stiles and Erica stomped outside the cafeteria, hand in hand. 

“This doesn’t change anything. He still hates me.” she found their table incredibly interesting out of the sudden, studying its cracks and stains.

“ _Hates_ you?” Scott raised his voice, catching her attention again. “Lydia, he _misses_ you. You don’t know how miserable he’s been since you two, uh, how to put it? _Broke up_. He asks the pack how you’re doing all the time.”

 _Misses_ her? He has a perfect way of showing it, then. “Then why is he so angry with me?” 

“Because you hurt him.”

“I _hurt_ him?” it was Lydia’s time to raise her voice. “I thought he was just pissed at me for-”

“Scott.”

A boy their age with a finished lunch tray in his hands Lydia hadn’t seen before had silently sneaked up on their table. “Still up for practice later?”

“Yeah. See you.” Scott waved at him with a growing smile. The stranger left, nodding goodbye and, immediately after, Lydia faced Scott.

“Who’s he?”

“That's Theo, he transferred back to Beacon Hills last week.”

“Back?” Lydia wrinkled her nose.

“He was with us in primary,” Scott explained. “Until his whole family died and he was sent to a foster home.”

“What’s he doing back? It must be a nightmare to return.”

“Actually,” Scott leaned forward, tapping on the desk. “he’s trying to get into our pack.”

Lydia’s eyes cracked open. “What?”

“Another werewolf. Omega.” he lowered his voice to the point that Lydia struggled to hear him through the uproar in the emptying cafeteria. “He’d heard about me as he was travelling around, looking for a new pack. Apparently, the news of a true alpha has spread quickly.”

The supernatural population in Beacon Hills was growing by the second. “And you’re not letting him join. Why?” Lydia realised.

“Simple.” Scott moved back in his seat, speaking louder. “Stiles doesn’t trust him.”

“Why?”

“His eyes are blue.” Lydia squirmed in her seat, wrinkles forming across her forehead. “He said it was an accident but.. Stiles didn’t find it convincing.”

Blue eyes. Theo had _killed_ an innocent human, like Malia. Lydia could understand Stiles’ principle, but everyone in the pack, even Lydia, understood that Malia’s case wasn’t her fault, nothing but an accident. Lydia, having killed someone because of her powers herself, could forgive Malia and continue trusting her. Why couldn’t he trust Theo, too?

“Stiles is _known_ for his paranoia,” Lydia noted. “Maybe give Theo a chance.”

Scott nodded, eyes darting across the room, lost in his thoughts. “That’s why we’re meeting for a quick lacrosse game after school. Werewolf against werewolf.”

The school bell rang then, startling the two friends. They got up quickly, sliding their backpacks up on one shoulder.

“Lydia,” Scott called after her when she’d already stormed past her schoolmates, who bumped into each other on their way to the exit. “Just promise me. That you and Stiles go back to normal. Please.”

Lydia froze in the doorway, making the people around her grunt as they squeezed past her to their respective classrooms. “It’s not up to me. You know that.”

“Just try.” Scott’s voice turned tiny. “Tonight’s your chance.”

Lydia nodded before heading for her own class a floor above. She wasn’t sure where she stood with Stiles, but she was willing to try anything to get him back. And as Scott had said, today she finally had the opportunity to.

As she entered her English class and sneaked past Stiles and Erica at the front, exchanging chuckles, Lydia felt hopeful. Maybe things weren’t so bad anymore. Maybe Stiles will forgive her. Maybe tomorrow they can be friends again. That’s all that Lydia desired for now. She couldn’t let her feelings get between them again.

“Hey, missed you at lunch.” 

Lydia jumped, having failed to notice Jackson beside her, watching her every move with brows pulled together. Lydia sent him a lifeless smile in return. Frankly, she’d forgotten that they were even _dating_ because Jackson had ignored her since his last message Friday night.

> **from: jackson [11:58pm]**
> 
> _where are you? you promised to be here_

Turning away from her boyfriend with a forced grin, she watched the clock above the blackboard, on which her teacher was making notes of the book they were reading, counting down minutes to the end of the class. Thirty. She glanced over at Stiles, who passed Erica a note, at which she laughed, drawing the teacher’s attention, which resulted in detention. Twenty. The previously clear sky had turned dark and Lydia struggled to see her notes. Ten. The rain was pouring down the windows, each drop like a sharp blade against the glass. Five. The thunder rumbled, making some of her classmates jump. One. Jackson whispered something about calling her later.

“That’s it for today.” the teacher raised her voice, erasing the contents on the blackboard with a cloth. “Lydia, if you could come for a second, please.”

Lydia packed up slowly, waiting on the rest of her classmates to leave, managing to ignore Stiles stiffen up at the teacher’s call. Once only she and the teacher were in the room, Lydia approached her desk fearfully.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. The very opposite.” she must’ve noticed Lydia’s frightened face. “Just wanted to give you a little heads up about a call you’re getting later.”

Lydia blinked inquisitively but the teacher didn’t take long to explain. “Your project about the mysterious disturbances around the US that you submitted for the contest. You’ve won, nationally.”

“I have?” Lydia questioned her in disbelief. _Nationally?_ She hadn’t a clue she could even get that far.

“More importantly, I’m happy to announce having been notified that a spokesperson from MIT is interested in an interview with you, as your research had been _insightful_.” her smile reached her eyes.

Lydia’s jaw dropped. “MIT? You’re kidding.”

MIT had been Lydia’s dream university since she’d first heard about it from her middle school teachers, who believed Lydia was gifted enough to apply. Lydia, self-deprecating Lydia, who never fully believed in her abilities had never seriously considered the university an option.

“Keep a hold of your phone. See you in class tomorrow.”

Lydia thanked her, rushed out into the hallway, and pressed her back against the lockers. Grinning widely, she pulled her phone out with trembling fingers. Only before hovering her fingers over _send_ for the message she’d typed out to Stiles did she realise that she could no longer tap on it. She could no longer tell him exciting news or horrible experiences, or ask for advice when she was struggling.

But that _had_ to change tonight when she finally got to talk to Stiles. Lydia promised herself that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at that! villian theo. i am not perticularly keen on his character in the show since he hurt lydia but thought i'd include him for the people who love him! thiam shippers, something is coming for you, too! 
> 
> what do you reckon will happen when stiles comes over to lydia's? and what's the deal with the lab? always interested in your theories.
> 
> i have a really time-taking writing assignment for one of my creative writing modules soon so i might not post a chapter next week but i'll try my best!
> 
> i appreciate all and any feedback as it motivates me to write! 
> 
> \- dylan @piinofs on twitter


	3. trust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles, I-” Lydia shifted her focus to the map. “Back then. It was- It wasn’t nothing. I wanted to kiss you.”
> 
> He looked down at her, a vein pulsing in his throat. “Because you were drunk and I was around, I know.”
> 
> “That’s not what I mean,” Lydia argued, glancing anywhere but at Stiles. “I wanted to kiss you because-”
> 
> “Because what?” he choked out, pressing a hand against her door.

Time seemed to stop entirely as Lydia paced around her room, from the window to her bed, then to her door and the closet, from which she could watch Stiles’ room without being seen herself. His blinds were open again, sunlight dancing around his walls.

She was so nervous, her lips were nearly chewed to blood. Stiles would ring her bell any second. In several moments, she’d invite him in and exchange tense hellos.

Lydia darted towards her mattress and picked up her phone, reading Stiles’ text once again.

> **from: stiles [4:55pm]**
> 
> _be there in five_

The clock then struck five in the afternoon, her heart beating twice a second. In a flash, Lydia was already on her feet and through her bedroom door. Her breath got heavier with every step she skipped down the stairs. Her fingers tensed around the doorknob before she turned it open.

Stiles stood in front of her, hand hovering in the air. Quickly, he let it fall to his side. Lydia stared at him, at his eyes looking everywhere but her, his lips pinched together and his hair shuffled by the rain.

Lydia opened her mouth to greet him, say _anything_ , but Stiles put his hand up. With great disappointment, her shoulders dropped, but still, she opened the door for him.

In utter silence, they walked up to her room, Stiles taking his time to investigate the house he hadn’t visited since last year. When Stiles entered after her, he scanned the room’s walls, stopping at the wall of photos with them, which Lydia, like Stiles, hadn't removed.

“Your room looks different,” he uttered.

Lydia followed his gaze, which was stuck on pictures of Lydia with Jackson and his friends. “I haven’t had the time to get rid of the holiday decorations.” she gulped, pointing at the fairy lights.

“Right.”

Stiles stood frozen by her door while Lydia settled on the ground, next to a map she’d laid out.

“You can sit here.” she insisted, patting the carpet beside her. “I’ve got some blueprints from my mom.”

He looked uncomfortable, sitting down beside Lydia, too far to her liking but close enough to study the map.

“Are they any different from the last ones?” he asked, swallowing loudly.

“These show the air vents.”

Stiles shuffled in his seat, but kept his gaze on the map, almost like he was trying his hardest to avoid looking at Lydia. 

“You’ve got a plan?” he asked again.

Lydia nodded, even though he couldn't see her. “We could sabotage the security. Maybe not with something as extreme as wolfsbane for someone like Scott, but it’s worth a try.”

“What are you thinking?”

It was strange. So strange to hear his voice so close. Strange having him pay attention to her words, her plan. Lydia remembered how they worked on their strategies not long ago, in this very room. Farther apart, Lydia at her desk while Stiles paced across one corner to the other, but in some way closer. Less restricted. With less tension you could cut through with a sharper remark. 

“Sleeping gas. We could get it from-”

“Melissa.” Stiles realised. “Of course. The hospital.”

Despite their fallout, they could still finish each other's sentences. Their brains worked in sync, without even trying, without a struggle.

“To get to the basement, where the supernatural section is, we need the keycard.” Lydia continued, glancing at Stiles at the corner of her eye. He was deep in thought, stroking his chin while hovering a finger over the vents of the lower ground.

“But it has to be someone important. With access.”

“The head orderly would have it. He has all the keys. He _must_ have the keycard, too.” Lydia noted, squinting her eyes at the smaller lines that connected the vents.

Stiles, however, scooted over to her abruptly, his chest quivering with each shallow breath. Lydia met his eyes for the first time that night, they reflected the setting sun, whose rays of light coloured her room's walls orange.

“You are _not_ getting near Brunski again,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

The last time the pack had paid a visit at Eichen’s, not only did Scott and Kira lose their strength to the mountain ash, but Lydia and Stiles were chained up by Brunski. Brunski who'd killed her grandmother and required an explanation for her taped dying wish. The same Brunski who’d got away with it, never facing prison.

“He’ll be out of it. We-” Lydia struggled to keep the emotion out of her trembling voice. Stiles _cared_ . In some way, he'd moved past his pretence. And instead of being angry _with_ Lydia, he was angry _for_ her. “We need someone to make sure he’s in one of the sleeping gas rooms. Someone can cause a distraction, something important enough for them to call Brunski.”

Stiles broke their eye contact, facing the map again. He ran his fingers against the paper, from the vent they could enter to the basement.

“Let’s say it all works out.” scepticism crept into his voice as he continued rubbing his chin with his thumb. “What are we doing when we get there?”

Lydia shuffled in her seat, throwing a glance in Stiles’ direction. “That’s usually your speciality.”

“My plans never work out.”

“Your plan B’s do.”

Stiles swallowed loudly, his gaze darting across the blueprints, fixing on one room before moving on to the next. Lydia watched him silently for minutes, occasionally answering his questions about the rooms. Stiles let her take his hand and move it across the map, and at the slightest touch, Lydia’s mind fluttered. She’d _missed_ touching him.

“Here’s what we’ll do.” he declared, tracing the lines on the blueprints with his finger. He travelled around it, explaining every step of the operation. Lydia nodded along, easing into his presence. As much as Lydia hoped to avoid another supernatural disturbance, she felt _content_ working on a plan with Stiles again. Like they had never _broken up_ as Scott had said earlier.

“Tonight?” Lydia asked when Stiles finished.

He nodded, boring into Lydia’s eyes. “At midnight. Fewer crowds, less security. Tomorrow’s the full moon, I can’t risk you getting..” he stopped, shaking his head. “You’re hearing it today. Tomorrow might be too late.”

Stiles believed her. Like back in the day, he considered Lydia's predictions seriously. 

“So... We call Scott and the others.” Lydia eyed her phone.

Stiles beckoned, snatching her phone before she could move. “On it.”

Lydia watched him curiously as he guessed the right password and found Scott’s contact without thinking too much. She listened to him explain the plan, watched how his muscles tensed at the slightest worry in Scott’s voice and his mouth enunciated each word with his usual clarity. Watching Stiles and being in a room with him comforted her. Like the last six months had never taken place. Lydia felt alive.

Until Stiles hung up, tossing the phone over to Lydia, who froze at the sight of him getting up.

“Are you leaving?” her voice turned tiny.

She’d imagined Stiles would stick around. They'd talk with two scorching cups of chamomile tea beside their crossed feet, while their favourite vinyl rolled in the background.

“Yeah, I, uh-” Stiles stuttered, scratching the back of his head. “I’m leaving. You don’t have to walk me out.”

He turned around then, in the direction of the door. As he was about to cross the threshold, Lydia uttered: “Wait.”

Without a second thought, Stiles swung around, facing the girl still on the ground with her legs crossed. Lydia hesitated, her mouth opening and closing. Stiles waited, though impatiently rubbing the back of his neck.

“Stiles, I-” Lydia shifted her focus to the map. “Back then. It was- It wasn’t nothing. I _wanted_ to kiss you.”

He looked down at her, a vein pulsing in his throat. “Because you were drunk and I was around, I know.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Lydia argued, glancing anywhere but at Stiles. “I wanted to kiss you because-”

“Because _what_?” he choked out, pressing a hand against her door.

 _Because you’re the only one I’d ever wanted to kiss, because you’re my home, because I cannot live without you, because I am the luckiest person in the universe to have you in my life, because you’re my soulmate, because you make my stomach squirm at the simplest thought of you. Because I love you._ All these thoughts burdened Lydia’s brain, erasing any remaining buzzing and beeping. Yet she couldn’t push any of them out of her mouth.

Stiles let his arm fall to his side like he was giving up on her. Lydia couldn't say any of those things. Her silly, silly fear locked a door in her mind, the door behind which she kept all her secrets. How smart she is. Her guilt. Her pain. Her love.

“I have to go,” Stiles said, lowering his head. “I, uh, have plans. With Erica.”

Lydia formed a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, me, too. Jackson, uh, wanted to chat.” It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie.

Stiles nodded and waved nervously, entering the hallway. “I’ll, uh, pick you up half an hour before?” He stopped abruptly, hanging his hand at the wall, only his head peeking through the hole. And then he vanished from her sight.

 _Because I wanted to know what it feels like_ , Lydia thought, burying her face in her hands over the blueprints. The paper crumpled and so did Lydia’s heart.

* * *

“What the hell are we going to do?” Stiles raged, throwing a fist in the air.

In front of them was the vent that initially would lead them into the building to plant the sleeping gas. A vent so small it could only fit a child.

Minutes after midnight, Lydia and Stilespaced around the back of Eichen’s, a shadowy corner surrounded by pipes and bins, which stank like the hospital, so nasty both their noses were wrinkled. They’d entered the back of the building from a hole in the fence, the hole they’ve cut in their first break-in.

“We wait for the others.” Lydia sighed, pressing her side to the cement wall.

“Then what? As far as I’m aware, none of them can shapeshift into a baby!” Stiles joined her at the wall, hiding his face behind his palms. 

While he uttered something under his house that Lydia couldn't tell apart, she heard more shushed voices coming towards them. 

“Uh oh,” Lydia sighed out.

Besides Scott, Kira, Allison and Malia, who they had expected, another person ambled across the restricted area, next to Scott. Trouble.

“Hi, Stiles,” Theo nodded at him before turning to her. “You're Lydia, right? I remember you from primary. The smart kid, huh?” Lydia half-smiled in return, eyeing Stiles.

He was _fuming_. Lydia wouldn't be surprised if eventually, he'd exhale smoke.

“Why is he here?” Stiles spat out.

“We were kind of together when you called,” Scott said.

Stiles pushed himself from the wall, darting towards the pack. He studied Theo as if he could see through him. “He’s not in the pack,” Stiles shifted his gaze to Scott. “I thought I made it clear.”

“We’ll see after tonight.” Scott avoided his eyes. 

“Scott.”

“Stiles.”

While the pair shot angry glares at one another, Lydia’s eyes cracked open, noticing an approaching shadow triggering a light from the corner of the building.

“You both, shut up!” she whispered, instinctively grabbing Stiles’ hand and pushing him into the shadow. He glared at _her_ now, disconnecting their hands, while the rest of the pack silently moved into the shadow around them. Feeling like she'd crossed a line, Lydia let her arm fall to her side. Stiles _hated_ touching her, unlike before.

The shadow stopped moving shortly before reaching the corner. When Lydia heard the flick of a lighter, she eased against the wall; no one was after them. The smoker didn't suspect that a group of seven would be hiding only a few feet away, waiting to break in.

After a painfully long five minutes, the smoker re-entered the building from the back door. When the door clicked shut, the pack exhaled in relief simultaneously.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Stiles repeated, stepping back into the light from the streetlamps and the almost full moon along with everyone else.

“I can… I have an idea.” Lydia said, pursing her lips. “We need to cause a distraction first, though.”

“On it.” Malia pronounced, already dashing away.

Kira followed after her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Malia, don't beat up a receptionist again, please.”

“No promises.” 

“I'll go with her.” Kira sighed.

“Me, too,” said Allison.

The three girls darted glances at their friends before squeezing through the hole in the fence. Lydia studied the rest of the group, lingering her gaze on Theo. They couldn’t afford another tantrum.

“Scott, take Theo and sneak in while they… Do whatever they're going to do. Make sure you put your masks on when you smell the gas.” Lydia demanded. The boys nodded, leaving, too.

“What about me?” Stiles queried when they were alone.

Alone. For the third time that night, Lydia found herself alone with Stiles. “You stay here. I need you,” she stated shyly.

“What's your plan?”

She _had_ a plan. Stupid, maybe, but it was better than nothing.

“I don't know if it's going to work. I just want to try something.” Lydia worried, shutting and opening her eyes.

Lydia then let the quiet surround them, waiting. Waiting for any sound, any sign. And when she heard Malia’s growls sounding from the pipes, Lydia placed the sleeping gas inside the opening of the vent. Stiles gazed at her, more confused than ever, and only seconds before he _realised_ and covered his ears. Lydia got on her knees. And into the vent, focusing on the glass bottles, she screamed. Stiles stepped back as the wailing challenged the tolerance of his eardrums.

At first, the bottle only shook. Lydia’s scream quietened. She tried again, using her hands to direct the gas. The bottle moved an inch. She shut her eyes, picturing the blueprints, every stop, every turn that lead to the reception.

When she re-opened her eyes, the bottle was gone and the vent crackled with each turn the bottles made. When there was no longer any noise, Lydia stopped. She glanced at Stiles, who approached her again.

“Have I ever told you how badass you are?” Stiles asked, uncovering his ears. Lydia grinned, her cheeks reddening.

For a moment, they went back to their normal. No fear, no built-up frustration. Just them, the way they used to be.

“What now?”

Lydia elevated her chin. “ _Now_ we get the keycard.”

With tension and fear lingering in the space between them, Lydia and Stiles barged through the fence and then towards the main entrance. At the door was Scott in a gas mask, pacing around the top of the stairs. Noticing the pair, he removed the mask.

“So. Funny story,” he announced. “Brunski didn't come. But-”

“This better be a good ‘but’,” Stiles added.

“Allison can open the door by hacking the system on the receptionist’s computer. So…” Scott paused.

“That's our cue,” Stiles said, looking at Lydia, who nodded in return.

* * *

Nothing.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Just supernatural creatures, caged in their cells. Roaring at them as they passed by. Nothing stranger than usual. In silence, Lydia and Stiles tiptoed past each door, each creature.

“What now?” Stiles asked.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Is it getting louder in there?” he pointed at her head, which Lydia shook. In fact, she wasn’t hearing anything.

“I messed up.” Lydia stopped. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles stopped, too, watching Lydia put her back against a break in the wall between the cells. “Hey, it was my idea,” he said.

As Lydia was about to argue back, they heard footsteps creaking against the floor, which more often than not was covered in sticky substance neither Lydia nor Stiles could recognise but avoided. With eyes glowing blue, Theo limped towards them, visibly hurt.

“Just checking in on you. Scott’s orders.” he drawled, quietly moaning in pain.

“We’re just fine.” Stiles snapped with a pulsing vein in his throat.

Theo nodded with glazed eyes. “Find anything?”

“Just the regular. Razor-claw monsters and such.” Stiles shrugged. “Tell him to go home. We’ll stay for a second.”

Theo said nothing but hesitated to turn around and head back to the rest of the pack. When Stiles shifted his gaze to Lydia, faking a yawn, he disappeared into the hallway.

Lydia waited. A second. A minute. Stiles didn’t say a word.

“Should we go back? Before we’re caught?” Lydia asked, impatiently picking at her fingernails. Stiles nodded, following Lydia back to the reception.

 _Did he want to tell her something? Why didn’t he?_ Lydia thought, sneaking past the guards that lied on the filthy ground, asleep. Still disappointed, Lydia looked back at the staff before exiting through the main door.

They walked down the street where Stiles had parked his car in silence. Every house leading up to the Jeep, illuminated by the almost full moon, seemed empty. They passed one… Two... Three blue letterboxes, each overflowing with letters. Lydia glanced at one that had fallen on the pavement, dated a month ago. Whoever lived there, hadn’t been home in a while.

When they’d hopped in the car and fastened their seatbelts, Stiles turned to Lydia, speaking at last. “I don't like him.”

“Who?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Theo. He's up to something.” 

“You're paranoid about _everyone_ , Stiles,” Lydia noted, glancing sideways.

“Have I ever been wrong?” he looked almost offended, starting the car. 

“Why don't you trust him? He's _helping_ us.” Lydia reasoned as he steered out onto the road.

“He's suspicious,” Stiles said. “The other day, I saw him enter the lab at school.”

“So _what_?”

“The next day our chemistry teacher said her stuff had been stolen. I think he did it.” Stiles’ fingers tightened around the wheel as he drove, looking straight at the road.

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows. “What was stolen?” 

“Epinephrine,” Stiles said, confusing Lydia more. 

“Adrenaline,” she whispered, facing Stiles, who nodded. “He's a werewolf, he doesn't need it for treatment. What could he be using it for?”

“Nothing good.” Stiles sighed out.

For once, Stiles’ paranoia started making sense to Lydia. If Theo _did_ steal the epinephrine, he would have no use for it, unless he desired more strength. But with no _real_ known threat, he wouldn't be preparing for a fight.

“It is all quite weird, isn't it, though?” Stiles blinked rapidly. “How _did_ he know about Scott being a true alpha? Only Deucalion knows. He doesn't go around chatting with other werewolves.”

“I don't know.” Lydia sighed, watching drops of rain falling on the windshield. “Do you want to look into Theo?”

“I already have,” Stiles revealed. “And let me tell you, it's confusing. Know how his whole family died? Well, I thought it's weird how no one remembers something so morbid. I asked my dad and he said… He said that the Raeken family isn't in his records. He does remember them, though. He says that at one point, they just disappeared. No tragic deaths,” Stiles announced warily, as if someone was listening in on them.

“So he lied.” Lydia pronounced.

Stiles tilted his head. “So I don't trust him.”

“Have you told Scott?” Lydia asked, shifting her full focus to Stiles, who anxiously scratched his head.

“He won't listen to me,” he admitted, glancing at the wheel, which his fingers held so tightly, they'd turned white.

“Try harder.” Lydia nudged.

Finally, he looked at her with eyes full of desperation. “Lydia, you _know_ him. He trusts _everyone_.”

“He trusts you, too.” her voice turned tiny the longer he kept shooting glances at her, pressed back in the passenger seat and with a hand raised against the window that never fully closed, sending a light breeze to her bare skin.

“Not like he used to. Not anymore.” Stiles looked away when they'd reached their street.

“Did something happen?” Lydia asked, hoping worry hadn't crept into her voice as heavily as she feared.

Stiles opened his mouth and closed it, pulling into the driveway of his house. “I… It's unimportant,” he stuttered.

Stiles turned off the engine, exhaling as he leaned back in the headrest. His body trembled, anxiety tensing each muscle and triggering the salty liquid which could fall from his eyelashes any moment now. Lydia wanted to touch him, _comfort_ him, hold his hand or embrace him. But she felt she no longer had the privilege.

“I'll help you,” she whispered, having the most incredible urge to move her hand to his. “Whatever it is. I'll help you.”

Stiles nodded feverishly, facing the window on his left. Even if Lydia couldn't hear his sniffles, she'd _know_ he was blinking away his tears.

“Tomorrow,” Stiles said, turning back to her with bloodshot eyes. “Tomorrow we follow him.”

Lydia smiled sadly, watching Stiles struggle with unfastening his seatbelt, then jump out of the car. She stayed still, studying the inside - the empty cans of energy drinks on the floor, the half-open storage compartment with CDs they'd listen to on road trips inside. Covered in dust, all but one, at the very top; one Lydia hadn't seen before. She glanced over at Stiles, who seemed to pay no attention to her, staring at something at the end of the street. Lydia shifted her attention back on the compartment, opening it and taking the CD out. In black scribble, the title said:

> _“nothing.”_

Lydia’s eyes narrowed the more she stared at the writing, memories flashing back.

> _Stiles, I'm sorry!_
> 
> _For which part?_
> 
> _I don't- What do you mean?_
> 
> _Nothing._

“You coming?” Lydia jumped in her seat, throwing the CD back into the compartment and shutting it with speed so incredible, the disc’s plastic case cracked. Lydia swore under her nose as Stiles watched her suspiciously from the other side of the windshield, eyes darting from her to the compartment. She gave it a quick pat before rushing out of the car.

“See you at school,” Lydia said, hurrying across the front yard with eyes shut in embarrassment. She didn't dare to look back at him or _think_ about the meaning of the CD. That is until Stiles caught up to her, grabbing her hand. At once, Lydia’s eyes cracked open and she turned to face him.

“Actually, uh.” Stiles downturned his head, appearing more embarrassed than Lydia felt. “If you want to, I could give you a ride. Like old times.”

Lydia blinked, at a loss for words. She repeated his words in her head, investigating his tone. Was he being… Serious?

“Really?” she squeaked out, voice thick with content.

Stiles nodded, glancing at the car. “I mean, otherwise it’s a waste of gas, really. I care about the environ-”

His following words were silenced then, as Lydia pushed herself onto Stiles, startling him with a hug.

“I missed you.” Lydia beamed, losing control of the tears flowing down her cheeks as he hugged her back without hesitation, resting his head on her shoulder. “And I'm really sorry.”

“You don't have to be,” he assured, running his hands over her back. Lydia’s tears were now dampening his shirt. 

“I do. I do, I do, I do.” she sobbed.

“All's forgotten. Seriously,” he added when Lydia shook her head. “You're still my best friend. I don't think I ever believed you weren't.”

 _Best_ friend. Before today, Lydia hadn't even imagined that Stiles would still consider her a _friend_. 

She leaned back, keeping her arms wrapped around his waist as she looked at him through tears. “I wanted to fix it every day. I just didn't know how.”

They were so close. So painfully, heartbreakingly close. So close, the skin on her neck turned hot from his breath, so close she could see every little freckle she'd used to count when they fell asleep facing one another. His lips pinched like he was restraining himself from something. When Stiles pulled them together again, Lydia eased into his touch, blinking away every worry, every fear that she would never be allowed to hug him again. Despite her mistake, despite her silly, silly love which got them in this mess in the first place, Lydia had him back once again, even if momentarily.

> _Unrequited feelings are a pain in the ass._
> 
> _I don't like him._
> 
> _That's what I said._

Lydia’s eyes froze open, staring at the moon peeking from behind Stiles house’s rooftop with her head resting on his damp shirt which smelled so distinctively like Stiles. Like a mix of his toothpaste and pancakes his dad would make for him on his free mornings, with a hint of his coconut shampoo. Every scent she'd wished her nose picked up again. And as Lydia repeated Erica’s words in her head, she _swore_ Stiles sniffed the collar of her shirt, too.

> _Unrequited. I_ don't _like him._

Had Erica implied that _Stiles_ was the one with feelings? Not Lydia, not Lydia who has yearned for the same boy who she thought saw her as nothing more than a friend for _so_ long the time stopped making sense. Not Lydia who spent the last six months trying to forget the sound of her heart breaking when he didn't kiss her back.

“Are you OK?” he asked, his cheek pressed against her neck. 

“No. Yeah, I mean, yes. I'm alright.”

 _Did_ Stiles like her? But why would he have said so to Erica, Erica who he kisses and sneaks into his bedroom at a party? Had Erica been messing with her?

But Lydia couldn't ask. She couldn't. Not after _months_ spent apart the last time she'd imagined to have hope. She couldn't risk it, not again.

While her insides churned with every part of her skin pressed against Stiles’ and being a tad too close to his lips, so inviting when he'd chewed on them lightly. While Lydia _hoped,_ Stiles pulled away, still holding her shoulders. He moved his thumb to her face, brushing the locks of her strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes. Eyes, which stared into Stiles’, wide and full of yarning. And then, his lips brushed against her forehead. So briefly, Lydia wondered if she'd imagined it.

“Why’d you do that?” her eyes darted across his face, to his teary eyes, his wrinkled nose, his mouth half-open; every ounce of her love for the boy _must_ have reflected in her greens.

“Because I missed you, too,” Stiles mused, giving her cheek a light kiss before disconnecting himself from her and disappearing in the dark. When his front door clicked shut, Lydia touched the spot where his lips were on her skin a moment ago. And after those long months, she felt hope again. 

* * *

One, two, three. Four, five, six. No matter how many times Theo counted to ten, his breath failed to steady. He paced around the bright-lit room, trying to shut out the constant buzzing of the lamps, the distant screams from the cells.

“I can do this. I _can,_ ” he repeated to himself over and over again.

He _couldn’t_ do this, not anymore.

Theo felt trapped, not only between these four walls, in this room that reeked of suffering, but also in this situation he’d ended up in without a legitimate plan of escape.

> _Keep them apart. They’re smarter together. If they find out before they’re supposed to, it’s on you. You’d have ruined everything._

The one thing. The _one_ thing Theo was sure he could pull off in this unmanageable plan had now become his main problem. Lydia and Stiles were _already_ onto him. And by the looks of it, they weren’t backing down.

His only choice was to continue following the plan. Convincing them he’s on the right side. Changing their minds. Earning their trust. Just enough to fool them into believing him.

After all, Lydia was the most important one; Lydia was the _key_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are lydia and stiles back to being friends? one may never know. what's that about lydia being the key though, huh?
> 
> i actually managed to do my uni assignments in time to write another chapter. not sure about next week but we'll see! hope you're enjoying this so far :')
> 
> thanks for reading! i appreciate all and any feedback as it motivates me to write!
> 
> \- dylan @piinofs on twitter


	4. change.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you reckon a storm on a full moon will affect Scott and Malia differently?” Lydia finally spoke, not yet prepared to leave the Jeep.
> 
> Stiles shrugged, “When the world is angry, it gives them more reason to be angry, too.”

The following morning, having gathered her belongings, Lydia rushed down the stairs past her mum in the kitchen, which smelled like burnt toast and eggs.

“Lydia!” she shouted as her daughter snatched a sandwich from her plate and put it between her teeth before running towards the door, her heels clicking against the laminate. 

The sky had remained dark, warning another day of rain, but the wind hit Lydia’s skin harsher than yesterday. Parked down the street was the Jeep, and its owner - behind the wheel. Lydia choked the sandwich down quickly, brushing the breadcrumbs from her mouth, and ran towards the car.

“Music?” Stiles asked when Lydia settled in the passenger seat, her heart racing in her ears. She nodded and leaned forward, over the dusty compartment, and opened it delicately, pulling out the CD with the case she’d cracked the night before. 

“Not that one,” he spoke calmly yet his eyes filled with terror. Lydia tossed it aside, ensuring her gaze didn’t catch Stiles’. She didn’t doubt that the CD had something to do with her now.

“Which one then?” she studied the collection while Stiles struggled to start the engine, turning the key back and forth.

“One of our old ones.” 

Lydia nodded again, picking one at random and placing it in the player. As one of their favourite songs filled the silence in the car, Lydia moved her feet to the rhythm, unsure whether singing along was allowed just yet.

“So I was thinking, uh, we could follow him before the game at eight.” Stiles entered the street to the school, eyes focused on the road. “Oh, and Theo’s on the team now. You could come to watch.”

Lydia blinked. “A game on the day of the full moon? I should come to watch _over_ the pack.”

“Scott’s better now,” Stiles said, biting his lip as he made a turn, the engine roaring in agony. “He taught Malia how to gain control, too.”

Lydia’s face dropped. Between dating Jackson, avoiding Stiles and completing college applications, she wasn't included in the pack as much. At first, of course, it was because of the fallout with Stiles. Lydia remembered how everyone, _everyone_ , even Allison, who had stood by her side the longest apart from the boy beside her in the driver's seat, _even_ Allison turned her back to her. For the first few weeks, Lydia received the silent treatment from everyone.

She half-smiled, trying to conceal her disappointment. “Oh. A lot’s happened since-”

“We _all_ miss you, Lydia.” Stiles glanced at her, eyelids twitching. “You _need_ to come back,” he forced out, tensing his fingers around the wheel.

Lydia shifted her gaze to a car overtaking them, so quickly it was like they weren’t moving at all. Lydia noticed then that Stiles drove slower than usual and she wondered if he wished to be with her longer, not the six minutes on the run-down asphalt between their street and the school.

“I will,” Lydia promised reluctantly; she struggled to believe things were back to normal just yet with still so much to resolve. Fixing her friendship with Stiles was first on the list.

When Stiles pulled up at the parking lot, taking his regular spot beside Scott’s already parked motorbike, Lydia exhaled loudly, but quietly enough for it to be drowned out by the exhausted engine. As Stiles turned the key, the music ceased and the quiet surrounded them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, rather anticipating; the sort of silence that forms between old friends when they meet after not seeing each other in years. A silence which grew more familiar with every droplet, which soundlessly fell on the car’s windows.

“I think we should talk.” Stiles interrupted it, leaning back against the seat. “Lunch break? Usual spot?”

Lydia’s eyes flashed and her smile grew dimpled. “I’d like that,” she nodded. They shot glances at each other, Stiles’ thrilling, and both opened their doors. The breeze hit Lydia’s skin once again, but with it also a realisation. While Jackson hurried towards the Jeep from across the parking lot, Lydia realised to have never called him last night.

“Lydia!” Jackson called when he was only a few feet from her. Stiles tilted his head up, watching him over the car’s roof with teeth gritted. The hatred in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by her. Lydia thought the situation could not get worse until Jackson greeted her with a sloppy kiss hard on her mouth, startling her. “You didn’t call. I was worried,” he said after pulling away.

“Were you?” Lydia questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. She leaned back against the car as far away from Jackson as she could. When he situated his hand against the car’s top, enclosing Lydia between his arms, Lydia looked away. Stiles no longer stood beside the Jeep, and Lydia couldn’t spot him in the crowd of students arriving at school either.

“What’s up with you recently? Are you ignoring me?” Jackson removed his hand, stepping back from her. Lydia stood frozen, avoiding his gaze. In truth, Jackson had barely occupied her mind since Friday, when she’d talked to Stiles for the first time since their fallout. With re-entering the friendship territory with him, Lydia had quite forgotten why she ever started dating Jackson in the first place.

No one would argue that it was due to her hopelessness.

> _The moment Stiles stormed away from his usual seat beside her, Lydia knew it was over. Years and years of friendship thrown out of the window. She felt so alone._
> 
> _“Are you alright?” said a deep voice she didn’t recognise._
> 
> _Lydia looked around the class, watching her classmates place their notebooks on their desks and the new teacher wiping the crayon marks off the blackboard until finally laying eyes on a boy that had chosen the abandoned seat on her right. Stiles’ seat. Lydia shot him a confused glance. “And who are you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows._
> 
> _“I’m new. Well, I transferred to Beacon Hills at the start of the term but to you I’m new,” he stumbled over his words in a careful manner, almost like he feared to mess up. Lydia understood that. “The name’s Jackson.”_
> 
> _Lydia kept her gaze fixed on him. “Why’d you transfer?”_
> 
> _“My old lacrosse team back home didn’t quite like me anymore.” Jackson scratched the back of his neck, looking away momentarily. “It’s not important,” he added. “What’s your name?”_
> 
> _Before she could answer, they were interrupted._
> 
> _“Lydia, the class has begun. Why don’t you and…” the teacher went over the list of the students on her desk, stopping her finger on a name towards the end. “Mr Whittemore keep it down?”_
> 
> _Lydia and Jackson looked away from each other, opening their notebooks in silence. For the rest of the class, which passed slower than normal, either because of the one topic she didn’t quite enjoy or Stiles’ gaze she felt on the back of her head. The sound of the bell ringing was her rescue._
> 
> _“Hey, Lydia,” she heard that voice again, as she packed up her belongings and left the room in a matter of seconds. Lydia stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning around to face Jackson, who reeked of anxiety. Lydia swore she spotted a drop of sweat tugging at his temple. “I… I know this is out of nowhere, but would you want to sit with me at lunch today with a couple of my new teammates?”_
> 
> _“And why would I do that?” she was playing hard to get. Or perhaps on this day, Lydia preferred to suffer in silence, in the darkness of her brain, instead._
> 
> _“You look like someone who desperately needs a friend,” Jackson spoke as if he could see right through her. Lydia winced. “Am I wrong?”_
> 
> _Lydia shifted her attention to a figure behind him; Stiles hurrying out of the class with his head down and looking at anything but her._
> 
> _“Fine,” Lydia agreed, turning back to Jackson, whose smile grew dimpled._

Ever since Jackson and she started going out, she questioned her feelings for him. With Stiles occupying her brain, she wasn’t certain if she simply didn’t allow herself to move on to someone else or that she didn’t see Jackson as more than a friend. If the comfort she felt around him was a consequence of her loneliness or she _liked_ being in his presence. Even if it was both, Lydia knew that it was time to realise that whatever it is, it’s wrong.

“Listen, I need a break. From all of this,” she quietened her voice, having noticed the people surrounding them glancing their way. “From you,” she added, her voice breaking. She had no experience with breakups, having never been in a relationship before. Lydia felt like whatever she could say would hurt him.

Jackson’s eyes darkened. “Why?” he asked, taking another step back. “Don’t tell me it’s because of the loser you just came here with?”

Jackson hadn’t always acted that way. In fact, at the start of their relationship, he was the nice guy, the one their schoolmates politely said _hi_ to but didn’t fall for due to his looks. Gaining popularity from scoring the winning shots at lacrosse games changed their behaviour and changed _him_. Lydia barely recalled the sweet, nervous looks he used to dedicate to her.

“ _Stiles_ is my friend.” she corrected him, focusing on anything but him. “We were friends, _best_ friends before you came to Beacon Hills and I hadn’t talked to him for a couple of months and I just… Jackson, I need some time alone.”

Jackson scoffed, shuffling his hair with one hand and pressing the other against his side. “You’re seriously doing this on the day of the most important game of the year?”

Lydia couldn’t believe her ears. “A lacrosse game is the least of my worries,” she said, exhaustion creeping into her voice.

Jackson stepped back, more hurt filling his eyes. Lydia almost apologised. Almost.

“Well, it matters to me.” 

He looked at her one last time before darting away, with the kind of expression that felt like he was saying goodbye. And Lydia didn’t doubt that it was.

* * *

Lydia believed that in her three years at Beacon Hills high school, she hadn’t seen the cafeteria so crowded once. As thunder roared nearby, shaking the windows, she figured there was no way Stiles was waiting for her by the tree. She scanned the room, seeing no sign of him or any other of her friends, nor a table that wasn’t occupied. What she noticed, however, was the empty seat next to Jackson at the table she’d sat at for the past six months. She watched Aaron, a friend of his, whisper something in Jackson’s ear, staring straight at her. Uncomfortably, Lydia walked away from their sight, standing against the wall next to a table of four freshmen.

“Do you think the game will still happen?”

“A little rain hasn’t hurt anybody.”

“They say there’s a storm coming on the news. A big one.”

“They can’t cancel the most important game of the year.”

Lydia wondered how easy it must be, worrying only about a game that everyone will forget once they graduate. How much easier it must be to not carry the burden of such knowledge that makes you consistently worry about the next loved one that could be taken away from you, the next chaos that could destroy your life. And if Scott hadn't been bitten, she might have never known.

Lydia shifted her attention back to Jackson’s table. Through the heads of the students, she could still watch over them. And, to her surprise, someone was looking back at her. Isaac.

In the six months that she’d known him, Lydia realised that she knew nothing _about_ him. Just like her, he missed school without any explanations, met up with people not in his friend group in secret corners of the school and neglected the worried questions of his friends. And that one look that he dedicated to her, a look of intrigue, Lydia couldn’t figure out.

> _“This is Aaron, he’s my… Probably the best friend I’ve made here so far. That’s Danny, Greenberg…” Jackson pointed at each person whose name he called but Lydia wasn’t looking._
> 
> _Lydia wasn’t really listening either, too occupied staring outside the window of the cafeteria, at the tree and its leaves that autumn had begun to colour, and her five friends laughing about something underneath it._
> 
> _“You forgot me.” an unfamiliar voice called matter-of-factly and Lydia finally looked. At the farthest chair from her, leaned back stiffly, sat a boy in a lacrosse jersey, radiating this irritating feeling that it’s all he’s going to be known for - a face in the yearbook’s picture of the team. Yet strangely Lydia thought he could do more. That under all those dirty blonde curls, he might have a mind cleverer than all the table’s occupants’ together. Of course, apart from herself._
> 
> _Jackson chuckled awkwardly. “Isaac, I’ve heard you’re quite the legend here. All the girls know you. Lydia must, too.” Everyone, except Lydia and Isaac, laughed._
> 
> _“Actually, we’ve never talked,” Isaac uttered. Only then Lydia noticed that his eyes were focused on her chest. Lydia moved uncomfortably, regretting to have chosen a dress with a low neckline that morning._
> 
> _“At least be subtle about it,” she commented, putting her hand over her chest. Immediately, Isaac shook his head, looking up at Lydia’s eyes now._
> 
> _“That necklace. Where’d you get that?” he asked, silencing the laughter the rest of their group had continued. Lydia blinked._
> 
> _She had quite forgotten to have kept the necklace of the triskele around her neck. Only weeks ago, on the anniversary of Scott’s bite, Stiles had given one to her and the rest of the pack. As a joke, because none of them felt that Scott’s bite was to be celebrated after all the horrors they had faced, but it ended up meaning more to Lydia that she would care to admit. It was a symbol of them, of the truest friends she had ever had. A year ago, she’d only known Allison and Stiles. Before the other day, she had a group of friends who would die for her and who she would die for in return. A pack. A pack which she had now lost._
> 
> _“Oh. I, uh, a friend gave it to me,” Lydia muttered, finding the conversation strange._
> 
> _Isaac said something under his breath. “Your friends. You all have them.”_
> 
> _“Yeah, it’s a friendship thing,” Lydia’s confusion grew bigger; had Isaac been watching them? Before today, she had never paid much attention to him. Jackson was right, many girls and boys had a crush on him, but because of a certain boy, which was now out of her reach, she had never considered Isaac that way._
> 
> _“Friendship,” Isaac repeated, rubbing his chin._
> 
> _“Isaac, you’re doing it again,” said Aaron. Lydia was happy to hear someone else speak, having detached herself from her environment because of Isaac’s questionnaire._
> 
> _“Doing what?” he asked, finally looking away from her._
> 
> _Aaron laughed, “Being weird.”_
> 
> _For the rest of the lunch break, Lydia barely uttered a word and if she did, it was a one-word sentence to Jackson, who kept commenting on the food. After their interaction, Isaac had not looked at Lydia once._
> 
> _For some reason, Lydia felt like he should’ve had._

Having waited around for Stiles long enough, Lydia figured he must’ve headed outside anyway. After all the frightful situations they’d been forced to witness, who has a little thunder hurt?

As Lydia marched across the room, determinately heading for the door to the backyard, she was once again interrupted by the call of her name.

“Hey!” Isaac exclaimed again, running up to her all sweaty.

“Hello?” Lydia cocked her head, stopping her hand on the door handle. 

“Lydia, I, uh...” Isaac looked lost. “Need to speak with you.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed, “What about?”

Isaac shot a glance around the room, his eyes fixing on someone behind her, with something that appeared almost like _terror_ forming in his greens. “I can't say here. Can we meet after school?”

Isaac had never talked to her like that. If Lydia remembered correctly, they had never even been in the same room alone together.

“I’m busy after school,” Lydia was getting more annoyed; the lunch break was nearing its end and she still hadn’t talked to Stiles.

Isaac licked his lips, thinking. “Come to the game, will you?”

Lydia removed her hand from the handle, stepping forward and quietening her voice. “What’s this all about? If this has anything to do with Jackson, I can _assure_ you…”

“Not about Jackson.” Isaac interrupted her, looking flustered. “It’s just... Urgent. Please meet me after the game, outside the boy’s locker room.”

Having said that, Isaac quickly disappeared from her sight. Lydia stood frozen for a moment before shaking her head and opening the door to the backyard.

Firstly, Stiles was, indeed, under the tree. Secondly, he wasn’t alone.

On the night of Stiles’ birthday party, Lydia had seen Erica in his room, shutting the blinds, which Lydia rightfully assumed she had only one reason for doing.

However, seeing it in action caught Lydia off-guard.

Stiles was kissing Erica. Not just kissing her, but kissing her like he meant it, his hands caught in her hair and eyelids fluttering along with the smile that crept upon his lips. For a moment, Lydia felt like the students she’d heard talking about the lacrosse game earlier, like a teenager with worldly problems, like her crush not liking her back.

All those months ago, Lydia discovered that she had been wrong to think she had a chance with Stiles. In this very moment, she finally came to terms with that fact.

The thunder rumbled again, startling Lydia and making the kissing pair drift apart. Panic seeped into her blood. She had to leave unnoticed. Like she witnessed nothing that could have broken her already cracking heart a second ago. But the moment she turned around, Stiles spoke.

“Where are you going?”

Lydia didn’t turn back. Her sight was getting too blurry and she couldn’t afford to let Stiles see her tears. Not in a moment like this. “You told me to meet you here,” Lydia uttered loudly enough for him to hear the words but not the emotion, which she feared would appear too evident in her voice.

“You didn’t come, so…” Stiles argued.

“You decided to fool around with your girlfriend.” Lydia sniffed, regretting it at once. “Get to it, I have to go anyway. See you after school.”

Lucky for Lydia, neither of them said a word. Lydia darted towards the door she’d walked through a moment ago and then stopped; she couldn’t let half the school see her cry. As the thunder boomed much closer, the rain started pouring from the sky, dampening her clothes instantly. She looked back at Erica and Stiles, who were now staring up while packing up their belongings. Before she knew it, the pair hurried past her back into the school. But Lydia kept standing, water falling from her hair and her dress.

Six months. Six months worth of time to accept the truth yet Lydia continued hanging onto her tiniest thread of hope until this moment. Whatever stupid creation of her own imagination she fed with the _what if_ ’s had made this more heartbreaking.

Lydia realised then the answer to her own question. No, she felt nothing for the boy she’d sort of broken up with earlier. Because Lydia was painfully aware that Jackson kissing another person would never hurt her as her heart did now. No one but Stiles could make her feel that amount of love getting crushed right before her eyes.

Lydia moved over to one of the benches, breaking down on it. She _hated_ herself. And the water flowing down her skin did not wash the hatred away, as much as she hoped it would. It was just her, alone in the backyard of the school, drowning in her pain.

Except she wasn’t alone. 

“Lydia?” Allison called, her voice barely distinguishable through the heavy rain. Lydia looked up, watching Allison approach her cautiously. “Lydia, what are you doing out here? The class began and the teacher was asking for you so I...”

“I love him, Allison.” Lydia squeaked out, choking on her sobs. “I love Stiles,” she rested her face in her palms, shuddering like leaves in the wind.

Moments later, Lydia felt Allison’s hand land on her shoulder. “I know you do,” she spoke so quietly, Lydia could barely tell her words apart. “You’ll be alright,” she continued. “You will be, eventually,” Allison assured when Lydia shook her head violently.

Allison stayed with her for a minute, maybe two. Lydia understood that eventually, she will have to follow her inside and change into the extra outfit she stored between the books in her locker.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” the expected came sooner than she’d wished for. With Allison’s hand gripping hers, they stumbled through the cafeteria door.

* * *

They had lost him.

Ignoring the happenings during the lunch break, Lydia and Stiles had met by Stiles’ car after school like planned and waited inside the car until Theo hopped on his motorbike and drove off. They followed him a safe distance away, taking each turn only once the bike’s loud drumming silenced. That is until Stiles had been a little too careful and they could no longer hear the guiding sound, reaching a dead end at an abandoned parking lot of an alike building.

“What now?” Lydia asked, tensing her fingers around the door handle above her head.

Stiles turned off the engine, leaving his hands on the wheel. “There was no other turn. He must be here, somewhere.”

“So we walk.”

In her eighteen years of living in Beacon Hills, Lydia had never seen or even heard of this building, but she imagined it was not far from Eichen’s, based on a rusty sign on the building’s wall, named after the same street as the mental institution.

With incredible tension forming between them, either from their earlier interaction or the unknown threat they might be heading towards, the pair crossed the parking lot in silence, their steps sounding against the ground eerily. That is until they were both startled by a familiar voice.

“Are you following me?” Theo asked from behind them. Lydia swung around, seeing him in daylight for the first time. If it weren’t for his unexplainable appearance, Lydia would consider him a kind looking guy.

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles swore, visibly jumping.

“What are you doing here?” Theo asked again, irritation creeping into his voice.

Lydia and Stiles glanced at each other. “We're just taking a walk,” said Lydia emotionlessly, hoping to cover up the lie.

“Right.” Theo didn’t buy it. “In a car park?”

“There, uh, isn't much to do in Beacon Hills,” Stiles hesitated. If they weren’t already so suspicious, Lydia would’ve rolled her eyes; Stiles used to lie with such credibility, it scared her. What had changed?

Theo nodded once, “I didn’t know you were friends again.”

“Just making up for the lost time.” Lydia wished Stiles would shut up. Theo shifted his eyes from Lydia to Stiles as if he could see right through them.

“We should head back, actually,” Lydia interrupted the forming silence. “The game is starting soon.”

Before Stiles could mess up again, Lydia grabbed his wrist and dragged him from the scene. She didn’t look back but Theo’s gaze on their backs was carving into her skin. She only let go of him when they’d reached the car and hopped inside.

“He is _definitely_ hiding something,” Lydia faced Stiles immediately, glancing at where Theo had stood moments ago. The parking lot was empty.

“We need to wait around. See what he's up to,” Stiles said, depressing the clutch and shifting into reverse. He drove a couple of yards back so the car could be hidden behind the brushes but they could still observe the parking lot through them.

Lydia tried to remember the last time they were on a stakeout, her in the passenger seat and Stiles beside her. He _loved_ stakeouts; they fueled his aspiration of becoming a detective. Between attempting to be invisible and hiding from people who could potentially harm them if they were to be discovered, they had fun sharing snacks and gossiping about their schoolmates, pretending to be normal teenagers in an abnormal situation. Their favourite topic was the pack.

“What’s with Kira and Malia? Is it just me or have they been… friendlier than usual recently?” Stiles had once asked when they were parked across the street from Matt’s house sometime towards the end of Sophomore year, having their rightful suspicions about him being the master of the kanima.

“They’re definitely in love with each other. If they don’t figure it out soon, I think we have to take the matters in our hands,” Lydia said jokingly and Stiles chuckled at that.

“Speaking of people who are oblivious of liking each other…” Lydia’s heart stopped at his words and she turned away from Stiles, hiding the shock she realised spread across her face. “I’ve noticed that, uh, you seem to be spending an awful lot of time in the library with the dude from our physics class,” Stiles blurted out quickly as if he didn’t want to think about it too much.

“Who? Liam?” Lydia laughed and her anxiety relieved. For a second, she worried that Stiles had figured out her feelings for him. “I’m his tutor. He’s failing half of his classes, something about poor attendance.”

“So you _don’t_ like him?” Lydia shook her head violently. Relief seemed to wash over his face but it had been so quick, Lydia could’ve imagined it.

“He wouldn’t like me anyway,” she noted, letting out a snort.

“How come?”

Lydia looked up and down, “Well, he’s not that into _girls_.”

But now, almost a year later, Lydia and Stiles sat in the same Jeep in silence. Every minute the quiet surrounded them seemed to last a lifetime.

Until Lydia’s stomach rumbled and she remembered to have never got the opportunity to eat her lunch. She leaned down to her handbag and from it removed her lunchbox, which had some fruit and a single chocolate bar inside. She felt Stiles’ gaze glued to the food, almost hesitant.

“Want a bite?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

“I'll take the bar, thanks,” he shrugged. Even though Lydia was looking forward to the chocolate, she passed the bar to him, settling for the healthier choice.

“So,” Lydia said between the bites of her banana. “How are you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, emptying his mouth before speaking. “Lydia, there's no need for small talk. We've established this.”

Lydia frowned; his tone wasn’t sarcastic. “I just want to know how you are. We haven't talked in _months_.”

“Just wallowing in my pain, thanks.”

Stiles looked away, concentrating on the parking lot instead of whatever Lydia was about to say next. She was hurt and the irritation reached her, too.

“Why are you in pain?” she asked, holding back her emotion.

Stiles scoffed. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Do you want it to be?” 

“I'll stick to being the interrogator.” Stiles looked back at her. “How are _you?”_ he mimicked her, speaking mockingly. Lydia’s jaw dropped; Stiles was acting unnaturally. Was everything that happened the night before a trick? What could have changed in less than 24 hours?

“Fine,” Lydia uttered with her head down. “Just fine.”

For a moment, Stiles’ eyes softened but the next - anger overtook him again. “It's never fine with you, is it, though? How are you _really_ , Lyds?”

“I'm confused. _You're_ confusing,” Lydia squinted, thinking that if she looked at him in a different way, she could see the Stiles she knows and loves, the Stiles who never speaks to her like this.

“Why?”

“Because you…” Lydia struggled to find words. “Because one moment we're back to normal and the next you’re running from me. I can't follow it.”

Silence surrounded them once again, more tense this time. Stiles finished Lydia’s chocolate bar and placed the wrap in his pocket.

“Well, you're confusing, too,” he stated.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “What have _I_ done?”

“You're pretending,” he said unemotionally, staring right at her. “I see you, in hallways, surrounded by those pricks - Jackson, Aaron, Isaac… And your face is shallow. You're pretending to be like them and it's unsettling. I _know_ you, Lydia. I know everything about you. You don't act like that around the pack. You keep switching between whatever person you are around them to who you really are. And you're struggling to.”

This time, Lydia initiated the silence. With every word Stiles said, the blood in her veins boiled more. The hurt had disappeared; it was replaced by anger she had never felt towards another human before, let alone Stiles.

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling her voice break. “Thanks a lot.”

“What?”

Lydia inhaled and exhaled a bunch of times, trying to control the emotion she’d never had to learn to control, “You _don't_ know everything about me. Don’t pretend that you do after you've been shutting me out for months. I am not the same person,” she wished she had shouted but she couldn’t, not at Stiles.

He nodded slowly, taking in this new look that Lydia knew blemished her face. “So you fit in with people like Jackson now. That's who you are?”

“Well, at least he isn't judging me every time he gets a chance!” Lydia lost it, finally raising her voice. Stiles jumped, having not expected that either.

“Look,” he struggled to maintain eye contact with her. “I'm sorry. I _don't_ know everything about you. But I know enough to realise that it isn't you. And I'm sure you realise it, too.”

This time, Lydia would’ve yelled at him. Really mean it. She was pissed off. However, before she could open her mouth, she noticed a familiar figure entering the parking lot with a massive bin bag in his hand.

“There's Theo!” Lydia pointed into his direction. The moment Stiles looked his way, Theo pulled out something that looked a lot like the fireplace lighter Lydia had at home. “What's he… What's he doing?”

Soon enough, Theo placed the bag on the ground, covering it from catching the light rain that seemed to have returned while they’d argued, and set fire to it. He stepped back and for a good reason - the second the flame reached the contents of the bin bag, bolts of fire flashed a good five feet in the air.

Stiles groaned, “He's getting rid of the evidence. Whatever's in that bag is a clue.”

In a matter of seconds, the bag had turned into a pile of ash. And Theo - disappeared without a trace.

Stiles hit his hand against the wheel, to Lydia’s relief missing the horn. “Theo is _not_ who Scott thinks he is. There is no unsuspicious explanation as to why he would go to the middle of nowhere to burn something.”

“I believe you,” Lydia assured yet she wasn’t finished. “But it seems like you don't believe me,” she lowered her head.

Stiles’ eyes darkened but his voice remained calm, mostly. “What do you want me to believe? That you changed to this _lifeless_ ghost? That suddenly you're the type of person you always despised? Someone you never wanted to be.”

“You're not being fair,” Lydia choked out.

“You don't give me enough credit,” Stiles argued.

Lydia situated her elbow against the window, rubbing her temple. “You… You don't understand.”

“Enlighten me then.”

Stiles observed her expectantly and for some reason, Lydia felt like what he expected was another outburst. She wouldn’t satisfy him.

“You're so angry with me that you can't tell the truth from pretence apart anymore. Admit it. You don't like me. I hurt you and you no longer like me,” she said confidently. Stiles’ eyes opened wide.

“ _Of course_ I like you!” he exclaimed, startling her. “I'm hurt because I like you enough.” And for the first time that day, Lydia believed him.

“Then why are _you_ so cold? Why do you keep shutting me out, out of the blue?” she asked eagerly, watching the frustration bottle up in his eyes.

He hesitated, staring at his fingers, which Lydia noticed were trembling now. “Do you really want to know?” he forced out.

“I do,” Lydia hadn’t a clue what to expect.

“Fine,” he let out nervously, looking back up, his eyes fixing on the dead-end through the windshield. “Theo,” he blurted out, eyes flashing. “Theo’s coming.”

Lydia followed his gaze, noticing the boy they had followed closing in on them, his helmet on as he ambled across the road into the direction of some bushes not far from them. He didn’t seem to be looking their way yet.

“Hide!” Lydia scream-whispered, aware of Theo’s werewolf hearing. She wanted to crouch down to the floor of the car. Open the door quietly and run for it. Do anything. _Anything_.

But Stiles didn’t move. Instead, life seemed to flash by his eyes as he shot a single glance at Lydia, a shot full of something Lydia couldn’t distinguish. He bit on his lips hard before rushing to close the distance between them and meeting hers.

At first, Lydia couldn’t breathe. Her eyes cracked open, and she could only see Stiles’ face a distance away she had seen it only once before. Then, her eyelids shut and she kissed him back.

It was _nothing_ like the time she’d kissed him at the cliff. This time his lips were moving, too. It was _nothing_ like how she had kissed Jackson or a stranger at a party when she was yearning for physical contact, even if it wasn’t from Stiles. As Lydia kissed him, her only thought was ‘finally’. And for a moment too long, she wasn’t thinking about _why_ he was kissing her.

Then, she heard the tires of a motorbike squeak against the asphalt and within seconds, she knew it had to end.

“Is he gone?” Stiles pulled away too quickly of Lydia’s liking, doing everything in order to keep Lydia from seeing his face, which she wanted to, _so_ badly. Adrenaline buzzed throughout her body, blurring her sight but even if she could see properly, Stiles’ head was turned to his window.

“I…” he breathed out, stubbornly watching the puddles forming in the cracks of the road. “I, uh, thought that if we… He might not think we were following him but…”

“I understand,” Lydia’s voice broke mid-sentence.

For another minute or two, they said nothing but could _hear_ each other’s minds humming with words they _could_ say. Lydia used the silence to tilt her head so that she could see his reflection in the wing mirror. Stiles’ eyes were shut but his mouth - left open narrowly as he breathed sharply. He didn’t look embarrassed or flustered, which was what Lydia had imagined, instead, his expression was… Sad.

“We should go,” Stiles cleared his throat, turning on the engine and looking at the time in the display. “The game, it starts in less than an hour.”

For the entire ride back to the school, Lydia’s eyes were shut as she placed her cheek against the cool window of the car. She didn’t mind the glass hitting her head at each bump in the road Stiles drove over and how he seemed to skip every other song on the CD she’d put in that morning. She’d forgotten about Theo, about the game, about breaking up with Jackson, their argument, even about what she’d witnessed in the backyard. Her mind was captured wholly by the memory of Stiles’ lips touching hers, even if it hadn’t been in circumstances she’d imagined.

By the time they pulled up at the parking lot, the rain had flooded the road and leaves floated in the air. The predicted storm had arrived yet the parking lot was packed with cars and students who struggled to move in the wind, holding their hoods with both hands.

“Do you reckon a storm on a full moon will affect Scott and Malia differently?” Lydia finally spoke, not yet prepared to leave the Jeep.

Stiles shrugged, “When the world is angry, it gives them more reason to be angry, too.”

Lydia liked that. While the supernatural wasn’t, well, _natural_ on their planet, perhaps their friends could find some comfort in being in touch with the world through something both shared.

Lydia and Stiles abandoned the Jeep, walking towards the crowded school entrance. When Lydia nearly tripped over a bottle that the wind had blown on the asphalt, Stiles caught her mid-fall. He lingered his hand on her waist for a second before letting go and widening the distance between them.

When they reached the door to the boy’s locker room, Stiles hesitated. “Thanks,” he said, shooting a glance at her.

Lydia tilted her head, confused, “For what?”

“For still trusting me,” he voiced before pushing the locker room’s door open. The smell of sweat wrinkled Lydia’s nose and displeased uproar challenged her hearing, and before she knew it, a pair of arms grabbed her shoulders from behind, pulling her aside from the door. She let out a noise of surprise and swang around when the arms let her go.

“Sorry for startling you,” Isaac apologised. “The game’s cancelled. But I still need to speak with you.”

With everything that had happened that day, Isaac’s strange invitation had slipped her mind. She let him tug at her wrist lightly and lead her to the end of the half-lit hallway. The uproar quietened down, and there wasn’t a single soul around them. 

“What’s the deal?” Lydia asked, feeling uneasier by the second.

Isaac scanned their surroundings thoroughly. He turned to Lydia, opening his mouth hesitantly. “It’s someone from my pack,” he said in an almost whisper. “They were taken and I need your help. You, Scott, Stiles, Malia, Kira and Allison. That’s _your_ pack, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really appreciate everyone who's commented so far, keep them coming!
> 
> sorry for taking so long to update (uni is a little too much at the moment) but i hope this 6k piece was worth it. i had so much fun writing it in my uni accommodation's lounge with the perfect view of the ocean, which is probably why there's a storm in this chapter, haha.
> 
> thanks for reading, i hope you're enjoying it so far. 
> 
> \- dylan, @piinofs on twitter


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